Of Inscrutable Conceit
by serendip
Summary: What Ginny Weasley will do for love is no secret in the halls of Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy's quest for power also knows no bounds. The result is a pair of unlikely bedfellows. However, the end is unclear when human elements are tossed into the mix. Note: AU
1. Chapter One

Of Inscrutable Conceit

Chapter One

Ginny rushed down the corridor. She was late to Potions yet again. Her robe billowed around her, threatening to fall off, the blasted thing. She turned the corner, fumbling at the clasp with one hand.

"Hallo, Weasley," Draco said, leaning against the wall.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, giving a curt nod.

Draco spun suddenly, blocking Ginny's way. "And that's all you have to say, is it now?" Draco asked.

"Yes, Malfoy," Ginny said through clenched teeth as she attempted to push past him. The boy had some nerve, acting as if it were perfectly natural for him to be hulking over her for a friendly chat.

Draco leaned towards her, pushing his face closer to hers, his lips hovering over the top of her ear. "Oh, but say it with feeling, Weasley. Yess, Malfoy," Draco said, exploding the last s with a loud hiss.

"Malfoy, have you gone mad? What are you going on about?" Ginny spat in return, her impatience growing by the minute. She did not have time for this. Snape threatened no less than double detention for the next late student.

Draco paused for a moment. "I don't like being second best to anyone, Weasley. As a Malfoy, that should go without saying, of course. But I especially do not like being second best to Potter." He raised his chin, his body suddenly stiff against her.

Ginny stopped at Draco's words. Much to her embarrassment and annoyance, she was blushing. She leaned against the wall for a moment. Her rucksack fell to the ground. Draco loomed over her, his hands resting on either side of her head, his face hovering over hers.

"You are completely mad, Malfoy. The world does not revolve around Harry Potter. Why is it always Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that?" She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "A girl is entitled have a bloody sulk without interfering, nosy good-for-nothings sticking their noses where they do not belong!" she said, jabbing Draco's chest with her finger. 

Draco snorted and shook his head. "Think what you will, Weasley, but if Potter leaves a bad taste in your mouth, rinse it out with some pumpkin juice. Don't use me."

She had been too busy fuming to notice him until he coughed, blathering about maidens in distress and their heroes. O, that infuriating sneer! His eyes were sparkling with amusement, clearly at her expense. Ginny had meant to slap Draco, she really had.

"This is not the time, Malfoy. I'm late for bloody Potions."

She glared at him, leaning forward in an attempt to break free. Draco did not push her back, but he did not give in. Ginny was now pressed more tightly against Malfoy. She frowned. Her wand was lying on the floor in her rucksack. No hexes for Malfoy. She would simply have to immobilse him the old-fashioned way.

She raised her knee to his groin, but Malfoy stopped her, trapping her knee between his legs. They were now close enough for Ginny to feel his breath against her eyelashes. She shuddered. She had kissed him. Yes, it was rash. But Ginny had been sick of bloody waiting for something to happen to her. This was the new Ginny Weasley. This Ginny Weasley had a string of boyfriends who were not Harry Potter. She could and would do whatever she damn well pleased. Ginny tilted her head forward. Draco leaned in slightly as if to meet her. Ginny shuddered again. It was dangerous to have such thoughts when he was so warm and close and present.

Draco let out a short, sharp laugh and tapped her freckled nose with a long, pale finger. "Well, you should have said so, Weasley. Don't want Snape to give you detention again. Can't have your precious House losing what little points it has. We can finish this discussion later." Draco managed to disentangle himself gracefully and glide off with a small flourish of his robe.

Ginny gaped at him for a moment as she fumbled with her rucksack. No time to think. She was late. She ran down the hallway without a backward glance.

---------------------------------------------

Snape had given her detention all next week and an assignment—a whole parchment on the antidotes to all the potions they had brewed in class this term. And it was due by the end of next week! Just thinking about it made her ill. She couldn't be bothered to start the bloody thing now. Hermione would help her with the punishment later. Probably think it was a lark and tell Ginny she was lucky to be offered this opportunity to expand her knowledge. Ginny wrinkled her nose. Hermione was a dear, but sometimes, she was a bit odd. 

Ginny walked into the library's main reading room. She turned right towards the stacks and then veered slightly to the left to the sublevel containing the special collection of advanced arthimancy scrolls. Over on the west wall, there was a spot two hands beneath the precise centre. Before, Ginny had to fumble for the spot. Now she could find it with her eyes closed. Given her previous encounters with secret chambers, Ginny should have been more sceptical of her hiding spot. Hogwarts was riddled with secrets—far too many secrets for its own good, in Ginny's opinion. However, it was no secret that the library had special study cupboards for seventh years working on their final projects. It was just a musty and ickle study cupboard. There was no need to be cautious, really.

Ginny's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the impact of someone's chest. Startled, she fell forward, causing the other person to also fall, and landed on top of...Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here? This is my...," Ginny said, ready to launch off into a much needed vent.

"Your what? I found this place too, you know, and I've made no promise to leave it to you alone. It's just as much my secret as it is yours," Draco replied with his little self-satisfied smirk. The not so veiled threat of revealing their secret did not escape Ginny.

"Fine, I suppose you can use it. Just don't use it while, I'm here," Ginny said as she waved her hand in a shooing motion.

Draco shrugged and gave Ginny a charming smile, or perhaps a smirk. It was too hard to tell so close to his face.

"Whatever you say, Weasley," Draco drawled, clearly satisfied with her response.

Ginny waited. There was a long silence as neither of them moved.

Ginny cleared her throat and gave Draco a look, "Why are you still here, Malfoy?"

"Weasley, it's hard to move when someone is lying directly on top of you," Draco said, passing his hand along the length of Ginny's back.

Ginny grumbled as she scrambled off of Draco. She ducked her head as she removed her robe to shake off the real and imaginary dust. Her face hadn't been this red since Harry first stayed at the Burrow! The nerve of Malfoy.

"A pillow too, Weasley. I didn't know I was so versatile. And here I was worried I would have to add purely fabricated fluff onto my c.v. At least now it'll be real fluff," Draco said as he stood up and straightened his robes. Not that they needed straightening. It would take a herd of hippogriffs to even dent his perfection. Ginny wrinkled her nose at him and made no more attempts to fuss with her patched robes.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Ginny and smiled. "It's a joke, Weasley. You're supposed to laugh. Ha, ha. Funny. Then again, you are a Weasley, so I suppose I would have to explain my jokes to you."

Ginny set her robe down and poked Draco's chest. "Malfoy, if all you want to do is lob taunts at me, fine. But there's no bloody reason to stalk me. This morning, before potions. Now, after potions. For what? One accident. One mistake. One nothing!" Ginny's face grew redder as her speech became more vehement, her poking taking on a staccato beat.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he calmly snatched Ginny's wrist. "And a punching bag. The list grows." 

Ginny struggled in vain against his grip. For a scrawny boy, Malfoy was strong. Draco did not seem to notice Ginny's attempts and continued talking.

"Weasley, an accident is, well, half your siblings. Snogging the enemy of your secret, or in this case, not so secret love is pure manipulation."

Ginny's jaw dropped. She blinked at Draco. Malfoy was talking utter pish. She was trapped in a study cupboard with a raving lunatic.

Draco sighed. "You Gryffindors like to pretend you're so bloody pure. You break the rules just as much as we do. More, if you ask me. And you're transparent, Weasley. You might as well be shouting. Oh, wait, you've already done that," Draco coughed and had the decency to look away before smirking at her.

Ginny snorted. "Malfoy, I know that you Slytherins believe yourselves the end all be all, but I'm telling you, there is nothing between Harry Potter and I. Nothing. Shall I spell it out for you? N as in nancy boy, O as in zero, T as in _Terminus Ridikulus_, H as in hallucination, I as in I am telling the truth, N as in Nil, and G as in Ginny knows what she feels, thanks for asking."

Draco smirked some more. Was it spellotaped onto his bloody features?

"Fine, fine, denial is also a key element of the Gryffindor psyche. Not in love with Potter, my arse." Draco paused and winked broadly at Ginny.

Ginny giggled in spite of herself. Everyone knew that Harry was so first year. Perhaps second year. Oh very well, third and fourth year. This was fifth year, though! She was over him. She did stare at him, sometimes, but Harry was such a romantic figure. Growing up in a cupboard, the scar, those eyes? She sighed. A girl was allowed to look, wasn't she? Everyone stared at Harry. He was Harry Potter after all. It was hard to believe he was for real, sometimes.

"That infamous Weasley temper—you can count on it every time, dependable like clockwork. And no one would ever believe that Ginny Weasley would voluntarily touch that Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, even with his dashing looks and charming personality," Draco said, gesturing with his hands, tossing his hair so it fell just so. "And then Harry Potter would come rushing to aid of his friend to rough up Draco Malfoy, the defiler of little Ginny Weasley. Nothing like a fight to stir up the romantic sensibilities of our hero, eh, Weasley?" Draco nudged Ginny in her ribs.

Ginny blinked. He wanted to pretend to be her boyfriend? She had thought Malfoy would be too ashamed to mention the incident to anyone. Imagine, Malfoy kissing a Gryffindor, more or less a Weasley! This was too much. True, she could snog whom she pleased, being an independent woman and wot not. And Malfoy's plan sounded like a brilliant way of having the last laugh. Was she really that manipulative? She wrinkled her nose. It was just so ridiculous, it might work. More nefarious than the twins, that was her!

"So what's stopping you then, Malfoy? Why don't you go and besmirch my reputation? You can have a go at the Gryffindors and I can have Harry. What's wrong with that?" Ginny asked. She willed the blood to rush her face, thinking of the look on Ron's and Harry's faces when she and Malfoy came out to Hogwarts. Yes, in the Great Hall, she could see it already. She prayed the splotches made her look embarrassed as she clamped down on her tongue to keep the laughter in.

Draco, still grasping Ginny's wrist, pulled her in. "I don't like being used, remember, Weasley? Although I must admit, the plan is rather clever. I almost missed it myself. Didn't think you had it in you, Weasley." Ginny could hear a grudging respect in Draco's voice. "At first, I thought you were trying to forget your anger. A little fling. Perhaps you were. But you Gryffindors should stick to weaker stuff. Dragons can be dangerous."

Ginny gulped. This wasn't quite on par with the secret diary and Tom, but still, plotting with Malfoy? Her impulses always landed her in a heap of trouble. Not that she was taking the dangerous dragon bit seriously. She could imagine Malfoy practicing that line in front of the mirror and then doing that little flip with his hair to insure the adoration that was rightly his. He was definitely the loose cannon in this latest trick of hers. But a little chance made the game all the more fun, didn't it? 

"And of course, if I were going to play along with your little game, well, I figured I might as well have a proper go at you. Ravish you and what not," Draco leered, pulling Ginny even closer.

Ginny groaned and pushed Draco away. His grip never loosened. "Oh, get off it, Malfoy. I was not plotting an all out war between you and Harry. I vow, boys really do think the world revolves around them." She couldn't play herself too eager; Malfoy expected resistance.

Draco shrugged and faced Ginny. "It's not such a terrible idea. I wouldn't mind having an excuse for a duel, " Draco said as he idly pressed his finger against her cheek where her dimple had been a few moments ago, tracing the shape of it.

Ginny smiled sweetly as she stared directly into Draco's eyes. She felt his finger shift as her dimple appeared and tried not to blush. He really did know where her dimple was. Did she ever mention how simply infuriating boys were? She snagged her foot on the strap of her rucksack, just a little closer. "I'm so glad that I meet with your approval, Malfoy, but I do recall asking you to leave. I'm here to sulk, not plot ridiculous plans with you. You remember what happened the last time you interrupted my sulking. Now leave," Ginny ordered, lazily waving the wand she had retrieved from her rucksack.

Draco chuckled, letting his fingers trail against the edge of her jaw, cupping her chin lightly. "Weasley, you are far too much fun for your own good. You're completely wasted on Potter. And you're clearly besotted with the git. More's the pity," Draco dropped her wrist and winked at her.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Ginny asked, keeping her face blank while repressing the urge to have him say more of the same. She thought the very same thing most of the time. Harry really could be a git.

"You kissed me the last time I interrupted you. I'm waiting, Weasley," Draco said, smiling as sweetly as Ginny had before.

Ginny began muttering a curse, but Draco sauntered out of the cupboard before she finished. Ginny plopped down. Yes, it was definitely time to be alone with her thoughts.


	2. Chapter Two

Of Inscrutable Conceit

Chapter Two

Draco picked up a butter pie from the breakfast table. He had started eating them when he realised that Ginny was obsessed with them. Draco took his research seriously. It didn't hurt that they were quite tasty. He also suspected it unnerved Ginny to have anything in common with him, and he enjoyed that most of all. He nibbled while he scanned the Great Hall. He liked getting there early for breakfast. People were sluggish and slow, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They said and did things they would not normally do. In other words, they were vulnerable and available for his viewing pleasure. The Slytherin table was nearly empty. Slytherins were not generally morning people. Draco missed the extra hour of sleep, true, but breakfast was too good an opportunity to pass up. Draco sniggered as Potter and Wesley bumped into each other. The two boys rubbed their foreheads and grunted. Yes, far too good an opportunity to pass up. Granger walked past them, pausing only to roll her eyes at their backs. Ginny said nothing, but her dimple popped up for a brief moment.

Draco sighed as he continued nibbling on the cold part of his butter pie. Who was he fooling? It was absolutely insane to be sitting in the Great Hall at this hour. The emptiness of his House's table only brought home the truth of his thought. Of course he had perfectly good motives for being there. But they were confused and complicated, verging on inexplicable. Such was the life of Draco Malfoy. Draco had a revelation this summer. He was surprised it hadn't occurred to him earlier. Voldemort was up to no good. Draco smirked. No, he was not turning coat. Oh, far from it. Voldemort was up to no good for Draco Malfoy. Voldemort was a nutter, no doubt about that. Some of the things Father had been forced to do, well, they just made no sense and they were even downright dangerous. And more importantly, if he were in Voldemort's place, why would he share all that delicious power with scheming sycophants like his father? Draco snorted. He would take no part in the machinations of a madman. It would only end in death.

But that did not mean Draco had abandoned his vendetta against Harry Potter. Oh no. If anything, it had strengthened his resolve to put that pathetic half blood, the weasel and the frizzy-haired, swotty Mudblood in their place—beneath Draco Malfoy. So he watched them whenever he could for weakness: in Potions class; in the hallways; Quidditch practice; during meals, and therefore breakfast. He couldn't lose that precious hour of observation time. Draco bit his lip as he watched Neville spill pumpkin juice on Harry. It didn't hurt that the Gryffindors were utter buffoons in the morning. Ginny nibbled on a butter pie while Weasley and Granger squabbled. Draco rolled his eyes. Those two really needed to be locked in a bloody room together. Ginny turned her gaze to Draco and she jumped in her seat. He smiled slightly, raising his butter pie in salute to her. She blanched slightly and turned empathically to talk with Creevey. The hot part of the butter pie oozed. He took a sip of pumpkin juice, letting the hot part seep into the cold part.

Oh, he had always known she was there. He had made a point of memorising the name of all the students at Hogwarts. Not because he cared. Information was power, and power was everything. He also made a special point of keeping tabs on his enemies. The feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys was one of long standing. And who could forget the mysterious circumstances surrounding Ginny Weasley and the Chamber of Secrets? How Father had snarled about the incident, muttering about the genius of slipping little Ginny Weasley the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle, only to be foiled by that bloody Harry Potter. But Father had kept ickle Draco in the dark. Draco narrowed his eyes. He still hadn't forgiven Father. He was not some snot-nosed brat to be kept out of the loop. Draco still didn't know what had happened with the diary, but he remembered. There was more to Ginny Weasley than met the eye. Naturally, the unfortunate hexing incident of the prior year had no impact whatsoever on his decision to focus on Ginny Weasley. Malfoy was not so petty as to demand retribution. He shuddered. Even now he could hear the squeals of laughter from Crabbe and Goyle. Boxing their ears had done nothing to soothe his temper.

Oh, he would make her pay, but how? The revelation took place early in the school year. Potter had been talking to Ginny and she was staring at Potter with those moony, adoring eyes, her dimple peeping in and out. Potter was in his usual fine form. He nodded absently and patted Ginny's hand. Draco rolled his eyes. The git couldn't see how she was practically drooling over him. At that moment, Ginny had turned her head and caught Draco watching. Her eyes grew wide and he remembered that day in Diagon Alley. He could use her, like Father had. Yes, he would snatch Ginny Weasley from under Potter's nose. He would break her little heart. Let her sob her nights away over Draco Malfoy. That was the cruelest punishment of all. He would show them all who ruled this school. Malfoy practically hopped in glee. 

He had started following her then. She did have some friends—giggly, faceless things. Most of them were boys, but he paid them no mind. The pimply, half-washed masses of Hogwarts were no competition for Draco Malfoy. She seemed to savour her time alone, trampling out on the fields or into empty classrooms for long stretches of time. Lately, she seemed particularly fond of the greenhouse. These spaces were too open and too public for him to initiate contact. He knew the seduction required a careful, delicate touch. Even with planning, one never really knew how a Gryffindor would react. So it was best to start privately. The last thing he needed was to be slapped by Ginny Weasley in front of all of Hogwarts. Humiliation was not part of the plan. When she had started hanging about in that abandoned study cupboard, he thanked Merlin for his good luck. It was a well-known fact that seventh years used the cupboards for amourous liaisons. Some Slytherins had no qualms about letting their cupboards out to the less fortunate younger students. They weren't the most romantic of settings, but cramped quarters did promote a certain level of intimacy. All in all, it was a suitable place to make his first contact.

When she had fled the Great Hall in tears, Harry and Ron bewildered, Hermione scolding, Draco knew it was his cue to begin pursuit. He casually finished off his butter pie. He would follow her into the dusty cupboard, a biting greeting followed by sweet, whispered promises, his cheek brushing against her fiery hair, his lips hovering above her face—just an impression, leaving her susceptible for later meetings, a small step in his elaborate plan. However, the first contact hadn't turned out the way he had expected. Who knew that Ginny Weasley was such a firecracker? He had expected her to be drenched with tears, a forgotten rag doll that would bend easily to his will. His observations gave no indication that she was anything but a milquetoast girl.

"A little hint, Weasley. Princesses should hide in towers, not dusty cubbyholes, if they want to be saved by their heroes. I suspect Potter is far-sighted," Draco had drawled. He had thought it was rather witty.

Instead of gawking at him with shocked eyes, she had spun around and spat at him. "Did anyone ask your opinion, you sodding git?"

Draco was set aback. Ginny Weasley wasn't half bad-looking. It was her mute paleness that dulled her. Her nose was red from weeping, but her brown eyes were huge and bright with anger, her red hair flying about her flushed face. The only thing missing was the dimple. Draco suspected if Pansy had a dimple he really could tolerate her presence. Well, no, he wouldn't, but he could at least tolerate looking at her while she pretended to be smarter and prettier than him. Draco sighed. It was hard for people who weren't him—he shouldn't be so hard on Pansy.

He smirked as Ginny continued ranting. He wasn't sure what she was saying—it got lost in translation. There was something about identity and Potter and Ron and Bill? Who was Bill? She was in love with Harry, not Bill. Was there even a Bill at Hogwarts? He scratched his head. Draco marveled at her freckles. Fascinating how they seemed to be everywhere—her nose, her cheeks, the backs of her hands, the hollow spot where her neck met her collarbone. Ginny waved her arms about, her words growing more incensed and passionate. He didn't know she was this obsessed with Potter. It was really quite amusing to watch her rant, but he wondered what it would do to his little scheme. He hadn't considered the possibility that she was a raving lunatic—lunatic, obviously, since she was a Gryffindor, but not stark raving mad. He sighed inwardly, giving himself a moment to recalibrate.

And that was when he had seen the hand coming towards his face. The bird had gone completely batty. She was slapping him because she was angry with bloody Potter? This was absolutely ludicrous. Yet another wild card slipped into his hand. He started to turn, disgusted at all those lost hours of sleep, but then Ginny's hand reached around his neck, pulling him in for an impromptu snogging session. If you could call Weasley's mouth mashed upon his chin to be a kiss, that is. Draco bit his lip. Even now the memory of that first mashing still amused him. He snuck yet another glance at Ginny, who was still doing a splendid job of ignoring him. She appeared thoroughly engrossed in her conversation with Creevey.

She had pulled away, her eyes now wide with shock. Draco had instinctively wrapped his arms around her, smirking happily at the confused Ginny. Ginny turned her face to look at the ground, but she did not struggle against his grip. Definitely a wild card. But one he could use to his advantage. He would alter his plans accordingly. He cupped his hand against her chin, raising her eyes to meet his.

"Silly Weasley, a snog requires the lips to meet. Like this." Draco leaned forward, just letting his lips brush against hers.

He waited for her to struggle, to flee. He did not want to force anything upon her. Better to have her crawl to him. Besides, he had a reputation to maintain here. Who ever heard of a Malfoy having to force his attentions upon a woman? Ginny froze for a moment before she leaned into the kiss; her lips parted slightly as though she were focusing all her concentration on this moment, pulling him towards her urgently. Draco laughed against her, letting his teeth graze her lips. It was too easy, too easy. Wild rebellious child. She had met his teeth, his tongue, his lips, with an eagerness that surprised him. His practice with Pansy hadn't been in vain. Draco kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and her jaw, trailing his way down Ginny's throat. Ginny reached for his perfect blonde hair, mussing it, threading it between her fingers.

At that moment, she opened her eyes. Draco remembered feeling her jump back. He had pulled away slowly, raising his face to meet hers. Ginny slapped him. Draco raised an eyebrow at her, the red mark stark against his pale skin. Ginny glared at him. He refused to give her the satisfaction of flinching.

"How dare you?"

"How dare you might be the better question, Weasley," Draco said. He crossed his arms, looking down his nose at her, admiring the redness left by his kisses.

"You're going to blame me? Me?" Ginny stomped her feet. It was all Draco could do to keep from bursting in laughter. He swore she was going to have another fit. This was too much!

"And if you say one word of this to anyone, I swear I will commit bloody murder to keep your slimy lips shut," Ginny said before storming out of the cupboard.

That was when the fun began. He had spent the past few days smirking at her, her handprint livid against his white skin. The whispers would torment her far more than the swelling of her face. Her skin was more delicate than his, it seemed. He'd watch Ron nag her through luncheon and supper that day. Thick oaf probably asking her if she had some off pumpkin juice, for why else would she be covered in hives? Ginny had carefully avoided looking at the Slytherin table and for the next few days. She was always with someone, never alone. In the meanwhile, Draco had toyed with the idea of recruiting Ginny for his mission to put Potter in his place. She was not to be trusted, of course—merely an instrument that furthered his cause. There was also something deliciously wrong about having Weasley help him break her heart. Ginny Weasley was perfect: head over heels puppy love mixed with that fiery temper and just a hint of resentment. And she would eat up his plan. Star cross'd lovers were always a compelling conflict. Shakespeare was the most cunning of writers and had only gone over to the Muggle court for the money. Well, that and he had so deeply offended the faerie court with his satirical piece he had no choice, the poor fool. Perhaps Draco was letting his sense of humour decide too much, but he could not resist. And he had not forgotten who had kissed whom first.

So here he was again, sitting at breakfast, another hour working on his lovely scheme. Draco discreetly scribbled a note and gave it to his owl under the table. The owl flew over to Ginny, dropping the parchment in her lap. No identifying seal, no name, but who else could it be? She unfurled it quickly.

Have you considered my offer? Meet me in the cupboard after supper.

Ginny crumpled the note and tossed it into her rucksack. Draco finished his butter pie with relish. Fun indeed. But in the meanwhile, class.

---------------------------------------------

Draco began preparation of the meeting in his usual meticulous manner. He dressed in his finest school attire; his black brocade robe, the intricate interlocking off-black wild birds and animals, flowers and vines visible only to the discerning eye, well buffed black boots, sharply creased black trousers, a crisp cotton shirt with the silver snake cufflinks, and his House tie knotted just so. Even his hair was tousled perfectly—a grace note to his pristine perfection and a lucky find in Father's old spellbooks. The mirror and the trail of sighs from the Slytherin common room to the Great Hall told Draco that he was more than adequately dressed to the nines. He ate supper quietly and quickly, slipping out well before everyone else, wanting to avoid the masses. He cast his glance at the Gryffindor table. Well, oh well, little Weasley had managed to sneak out before him. He didn't bother running. He had wanted to get there first, to establish his own space, but the fact that she had rushed on ahead, that meant she was…threatened? Angry? Frightened? Willing? Eager? He played out dozens of scenarios in his head, unable to choose one.

In the library, there was still no sign of Weasley. He strode into the advanced arthimancy section, setting his face into its usual confident sneer. He pressed his hand against the wall and steeled himself.

Ginny sat on the desk, her feet resting on the chair, her robe hanging on its back. Her sleeves were rolled up, her House tie draped around her neck, and her hair was up in a messy bun, held precariously by an ink smudged quill. Was she nervous or did she just not give a rat's arse? And he had thought she was transparent. Ginny's eyes narrowed as Draco walked in.

Ginny glared at Draco, her nostrils flaring. "You have a lot of bloody nerve sending me an owl in front of my friends, Malfoy," Ginny said.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you're here, aren't you, Weasley?" He walked over to the desk, until he was standing next to her, allowing his mouth to hover just above her ear. "In fact, I don't think I saw you at supper at all. Shouldn't be skipping meals, you know. You'll lose that girlish figure you have, all those lovely curves that you recently acquired. Potter needs all the help he can get to realise what you are," Draco said, allowing his gaze to wander down slowly from the top of her head to the soles of her scuffed oxfords.

Ginny crossed her arms across her chest and turned to scowl fiercely at him, blushing just as fiercely in spite of herself. "Will you stop going on about Harry? The way you natter, I'd think you were the one in love with him!"

Draco smirked. "He gets blind worship and adoration for being lucky. Practically a Muggle for 10 years, his mother a Mudblood and everyone loves him. He's going to save the bloody world, you know. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. While I, Draco Malfoy, am nothing, a pathetic straw man. I stand in the shadows, when I should be in the light."

Ginny blinked rapidly and bit her lip in an attempt to hold back the chortling. O, that blasted dimple.

"You expect me to believe that you want to stand in the light, Draco Malfoy? Your father practically lives in the pocket of He Who Must Not Be Named. And you're not far behind, Malfoy. Stop spewing your lies," Ginny said in between giggles.

"Weasley, I was speaking in metaphors. I know you Gryffindors prefer blunt words, to match your blunt charms," Draco drawled.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him.

"And kindly refrain from comparing that fawning sycophant with me. I am my own man, I see with my own eyes. The Dark Lord is a madman. In my plans for world domination, dying is not an option," Draco said matter-of-factly.

Ginny shivered at the mention of He Who Must Not Be Named. Draco unhooked his robe, draping the heavy material across her shoulders. His arm pressed against hers, their heat mingling. She shivered again and he couldn't help smiling.

"All you say is true, Malfoy, but I still have no reason to trust you. Even if you aren't your father's lackey, Draco Malfoy is Draco Malfoy's only concern. Draco Malfoy would crush Ginny Weasley in a heart beat to get the last butter pie," Ginny whispered. Draco leaned in closer to catch her words, his smile growing broader by the second.

"But if you know all that, what have you got to lose? You know this is merely an alliance of convenience. Your heart is already taken. So what would be a few public snogs, some handholding and a little moon-eyed gazing? All in the name of love. I know you can do the gazing, Weasley. You've had so much practice with Potter," Draco drawled into her ear, his lips just brushing against her earlobe. "And now that I think of it, you like the snogs too. Or am I wrong?"

Ginny primly folded her hands in her lap. "I would be lying if I were to deny everything you said wholly because it came from your mouth. You're not really quite as stupid as Ron claims, even if you remain convinced that I'm in love with Harry."

Draco snarled. Ginny swat his arm lightly.

"I'm speaking, Malfoy. So I'm afraid I'm going to have to…."

Ginny's voice trailed off as Draco stared at her through his long eyelashes with large, sulky, grey eyes. His lower lip pouted. He managed to look pathetic, hopeful, and imperial all at once. Draco was particularly fond of this particular pose. He had spent many hours in front of the mirror until he had gotten the desired effect. Further testing on Pansy and various other girls affirmed his success. Lavender Brown had simpered at him while Padma Patil giggled insanely.

Ginny stared at him blankly. Or rather, she stared blankly at his lips. He pouted some more.

"Malfoy, you really think I'm stupid, don't you? I grew up with 6 brothers. I know every trick in the book. You can't fool me," Ginny said, licking her lips self-consciously.

"Just one little kiss, Ginny. If you say no, then I'll leave you alone, no more owls, no more meetings," Draco said slowly, enunciating clearly, flashing his teeth and tongue with flair.

Ginny gulped. "Just one kiss, what harm could it do?" she asked herself, under her breath.

"Yes, just one little kiss."

Draco started to move his arm around Ginny to pull her in, but she turned, yanking him by the collar towards her, this time landing squarely on his lips. He smiled against her mouth, pulling her in closer. This was much better. She wasn't the least bit timid. Perhaps she had been practicing on her pillow?

"So I take that as a yes, Weasley?" Draco said smugly as he pulled away from her.

Ginny snarled and Draco laughed, pressing a finger against her lips.

"Now, now, Weasley, we are allies for the moment. The least you can do is treat me with some civility. So, shall we begin planning our first public appearance? Or perhaps we should practice snogging so we actually look like a couple? It would be most embarrassing if you got my chin instead of my mouth, you know," Draco said while winking at her.

"We will do nothing of the sort. I have to write an extra scroll as part of punishment for being late to Potions due to certain persons who shall remain nameless," Ginny said, giving Draco a pointed look before continuing. "And Snape will have my head if it's not impeccable." 

"Weak excuse, Weasley. I can help you with the scroll. You know that Potions is my best class."

"Not all of us can have Death Eaters as fathers, Malfoy. I am sure if I had such an intimate association with Snape, I would be tip top in Potions." 

"Think what you will, Weasley. I am second in Potions only to Granger. It would take a Ravenclaw to top her, and you've seen the sorry lot in my year. Bring your scroll here during luncheon tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do."

Draco stood up, carefully moving his robe off of Ginny. Ginny scampered off the desk and hastily shrugged on her robe. She paused for a moment, opening her mouth and then closing it. Draco raised his eyebrow at her. She said nothing and he was about to say something, anything, when she slapped him, dashing out of the cupboard.

Draco rubbed his now red cheek. That had gone rather better than he thought it would. He hoped to wean her off the slapping though. His complexion could only take so much abuse. He readjusted his robe for a moment and stepped back out into the library.

Notes

1. The butter pies that have been featured so prominently come from Diana Wynne Jones' A Tale of Time City. The butter pie is a treat from the 47th Century that has a cold part and a hot part. The butter pie tastes best when you let the hot part seep into the cold part. I recommend you read that book, as well as her others, because DWJ is one of my favourite authors evs.


	3. Chapter Three

Of Inscrutable Conceit 

Chapter Three

Ginny walked down the stairs, shivering. In her rush to be on time to detention, she forgot her robe. Although Snape was sure to say something about her improper attire, technically she needn't wear her robe outside of class, so it's not as if he could punish her for it. Far worse to be late and given another week of detention. The snide lecture she wouldn't mind much but the next two hours promised to be long, cold ones. She sighed. She was such a mess lately.

She reached for the door and stumbled as it moved away from her grasp.

"So kind of you to join us, Weasley," Snape said, pulling the door open.

Ginny peered into the dungeon. Us? Draco leaned against one of the desks, waving one hand nonchalantly and then returned to examining his fingernails.

"Prefect Malfoy will be supervising your detention. I have other things to attend to," Snape said sharply as he gathered several books and a bag filled with flasks. Ginny did not know what to say. To be free from Snape's eyes was a windfall she hadn't counted upon.

"However, my absence will not be an opportunity for you to dilly-dally, Weasley. Leave your antidote assignment with Prefect Malfoy at the end of your detention. You can continue to work on it throughout the week. And remember, he will report any improper conduct to me," Snape continued as he measured out powders into neat paper envelopes.

The corners of Malfoy's mouth quirked ever so slightly. Ginny groaned. No, this was definitely worse than Snape. At least Snape was a known quantity. Was Malfoy ever going to leave her alone?

"If that was a complaint, Weasley, one week can easily turn into one month. I've no time for this. Malfoy," Snape snapped his bag shut and walked out of the room, leaving them alone.

Ginny spun on her heel and dropped her pile of books on the desk furthest from Malfoy.

"Weasley, I can't supervise properly if you're miles away from me. Be a dear and do come closer. Or better yet, I can move. We prefects are an accommodating sort. We live but to serve."

Malfoy had the nerve to dance his way to the desk in front of hers, settling on the bench and crossing his legs demurely, his hands folded over his knees.

Ginny ignored him, intent on her assignment. Snape, with his infernal cunning, had now prevented her from getting any help from Hermione. She was doomed.

"Oh, Weasley, is this any way to treat your partner in crime?" Malfoy said as he swung his crossed leg.

"Malfoy, we are not partners. Nor do I have time to entertain you. You heard Snape. I have to leave the scroll with you. If I don't spend every bloody minute of this detention on the assignment, I will never get it done!" Ginny hissed, staring intently at the page before her.

"She speaks! Your silences always unnerve me, Weasley. The longer they are, the more harrowing your eventual outbursts. So, what's Snape given you? The antidotes to all the fifth year potions? He is rather fond of the fifth year curriculum. I can't blame him, really. It contains the meat of potions," Draco said.

"Why are you here?" Ginny asked as she flipped frantically through her books. 

"You heard what Snape said, Weasley. I am supervising," Draco said as he peered over his nose onto her scroll.

"I said I would think about it! I didn't give you license to stalk me," Ginny replied, hiding the page from his view with her arm while scribbling furiously.

"You wound me. This fortuitous coincidence arises out of my duties as a prefect. We are asked to assist the House masters from time to time. Snape has been particularly busy of late, so…." Draco said, shrugging his shoulders. "And that's clearly the wrong antidote, Weasley. I know that the mugwort in that potion makes you think lamb's ears are the appropriate counteragent. But the mugwort is balanced by the maiden's heart. If you add anything with lamb's ears, the result will explode or cause you to break out in warts. That's a trick a First Year should be able to spot. Well, we'll give you Second Year, you are working with a handicap."

"Give me one reason I should not use my Potions book to brain you and do the rest of Hogwarts a favour that will make me legend for years to come?" Ginny said as she scratched out the last lines she had written, still avoiding his gaze.

Draco pulled out a fresh parchment from his sleeve and shook his head.

"Tut tut, Weasley. The answer is clear as day. I have all the answers up here," he said, taping his left temple with his index finger

"I suppose it's too late to ask for three reasons?" Ginny said, holding her hand out for the new parchment.

"Well, the other two are quite obvious—my dashing good looks and our partnership, Weasley. And of course, I am a prefect and I could see your sass as impertinence to your superior. Or I could be convinced that you are just playing hard to get. Help me make up my mind, Weasley," Draco said, smiling at Ginny, his hands spread open.

Ginny grunted. Draco took that as a yes. Who knew that Weasley and Millicent had so much in common?

"Now, move over, Weasley. I would just dictate, but I'm afraid you will muck it up. It's all those big words, like the and stir," Draco said as he walked over to her bench, making a shooing motion with his hands.

Ginny scooted over an inch. Draco perched himself precariously against the edge, leaning heavily against her. He reached over and collected the books in his arms, throwing them in a messy heap onto the floor.

"Ah, the fifth year curriculum. I remember it like it was last year. I suppose it was last year," Draco said.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You know, Malfoy, there are a few glitches to your glorious plan."

"You say this because you lack vision and romance, Weasley. I should expect someone with ginger hair to be common." Draco pulled one of her tails to emphasise his point.

Ginny ignored his comment and continued speaking.

"First, I am not in love with Harry Potter. Everyone but you knows this."

"Of course you love him, Weasley! Have you watched at yourself lately?" Draco fluttered his eyelashes, feinting a swoon.

"This brings me to my second point. I have had several boyfriends in the past year or two." Two spots of red bloomed on Ginny's face, her jaw jutting out ever so slightly.

"Oh?" Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

"Michael Corner?"

"The one who's dating Chang? I never did get the fuss about her. She's a knut a dozen on the streets of Hong Kong. But Hogwarts is a bit of a backwater, so there's no accounting for taste."

"Dean Thomas?"

"He likes birds? Who knew?"

Ginny forged on, the spots of colour growing larger, her chin clearly turned up. "My third point is given my past dating history, which is more extensive than yours, I might add, no one will believe I'm so desperate that I would date Draco Malfoy."

"Well, if I were so in love with Potter that I was driven to date Michael Corner and Dean Thomas, I'd want to date me, quite frankly. Thomas has an artist's flare, if you like Bohemians, but Corner is just boring—no style."

Ginny peered at Draco, her eyes narrow slits.

"Weasley, you really should stop with the logical thinking. You're in Gryffindor for a reason. Delusion and an inability to reason are pre-requisites for membership in your House. Remember, vision and romance! Those should come naturally to you. And I will have you know I have dated more people than you."

"Fourth, I am technically still dating Dean Thomas."

Draco paused for a moment. Then he began to laugh, clutching his sides as he fell to the floor, the peals threatening to choke the breath out of his throat. Ginny stared at him.

"You're joking, right?" Draco asked, gasping for breath.

"Well, I think we're overdue for a break up, but yes, we are technically still dating," Ginny said, frowning.

"If that's what's holidng you back, break up with Thomas. Release him, let him find the man of his dreams," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Ginny snorted and smoothed out the parchment.

"Not that there's anything wrong with having a preference for blokes, but really, Weasley, it's unfair of you to keep up a sham relationship like that," Draco said, still gasping weakly.

"Oh, is it?" she asked, looking down her nose at him.

"Yes and you needn't give me such a dirty look, Weasley. We are playing for power, nothing less, and that occasionally calls for sacrifices, distasteful they may be. Besides, how else are you going to complete your assignment for Snape?"

"Hermione would find a way to help me if I begged her. And you needn't be so concerned for Dean, he's told me that he doesn't like blonds, male or female." Ginny stuck her tongue out at Draco.

"I am not at all concerned with Thomas' welfare, but mine. Owl me when you've broken up with him. Now, stop dithering and let's start working on this assignment, Weasley. Begin with the mugwort," Draco said, picking up the fifth year syllabus.

Ginny shook her head, dipping her quill in the ink as she began writing down Draco's words. She wasn't sure if she had the fortitude to pull off this trick. Malfoy was utterly mortifying. She deserved a plaque if she could pull this off.


	4. Chapter Four

Of Inscrutable Conceit

Chapter Four

"It's been fun, but I think things are just not working out."

Ginny stood in front of Dean Thomas, her eyes wide and solemn, her face a picture of regret.

Dean turned and looked out the window. There were a few moments of silence and he shook his head.

"It's Neville, isn't it? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with Nev, good sort, salt of the earth and Gryffindor to boot, but…he's Neville."

Ginny stomped her foot. "I wish everyone would stop saying that."

Dean turned around and snorted. "Do you really find plants that exciting?"

"Perhaps I do. Perhaps it is no one's business." Ginny examined her nails.

"Well, given the amount of talking done about your extracurricular herbology tutoring, you might think it was everyone's business. And what a fool I look, being told that my girlfriend is preparing soil with Neville Longbottom when we are supposed to be going to Hogsmeade! Ginny, it's getting to the point where Ron is starting to notice." 

Ginny blinked. "Ron's noticed? Oh, dear."

Dean snapped his fingers. "Ah ha, I was right. There's something going on!"

Ginny shook her head. "There's nothing going on, witch's honour!" Ginny held her hand against her heart. "Swear on my broom."

"You haven't got a broom, Ginny."

"You know what I mean. You're not angry, are you, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "I still think you're a liar. Your big-eyed sulking doesn't fool me one bit."

Ginny continued, ignoring his words. "And to prove that there are no hard feelings, the offer still stands."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Do you really mean it?"

Ginny grinned. "Only if you keep your promise to hang it up in the common room."

---------------------------------------------

The air was thick, wet and warm in the greenhouse. During class, most students shed their robes. Ginny tossed hers vaguely in the direction of the cloakroom. Herbology classes rarely took place outside of daylight hours. The greenhouse was likely empty, barring a special study of night blooms. Ginny loosened her tie, striding past the first years' plots. She wondered if he was avoiding her; if he had heard the rumours.

She frowned. The blame could be laid at Ron's feet, really. A girl was allowed to have a boyfriend or two. That certainly wasn't a crime. And if Bill encouraged it—well that was practically a royal edict to go forth and conquer. Ron, however, seemed to think it was his duty to protect her. Everyone, well, almost everyone was good enough for Ginny. Ron was too earnest, poor boy. The way he nudged Harry towards her was so blatant, she'd nearly burst out laughing. But if Ron thought she and Neville were dating, then the whole school would believe it, true or not.

Neville stood in front of the plants, his sleeves rolled up, his cactus emitting the odd crooning noise, growing louder as she looked at it.

"'Lo, Neville. How are things?"

"Fair enough."

He lifted the branch of one seedling gently, staring at the trunk. Ginny stood next to him.

"I've broken it off with Dean," she said.

Neville nodded. He said nothing, snapping off dead leaves and branches carefully from the trunk.

"But I thought that we should still be friends, so I've kept my promise to him, you see," Ginny continued, the words spilling out of her.

"What promise?" he asked, still working, his attention focused on the plant in front of him.

"You remember, I told you! I'd sit for him. You know, nude. Models are impossible to find and expensive to boot. I'm doing him a grand favour."

"Ah."

"Ah, what?"

Neville looked up, his eyes directly on her face. He stared at her for a few minutes and shrugged.

"Well, I haven't sat yet, if that's what you mean," Ginny said, licking her lips as she narrowed her eyes.

"No, not at all. It's just that Dean has high hopes for his art. I wouldn't want them to be dashed, that's all." Neville smiled slightly, his eyes still boring through her. He snapped an especially large branch, the crackling of the wood the only sound.

Ginny raised her chin. "I will sit for him, I promised. I hope you're not calling me a liar, Neville Longbottom."

Neville shrugged. "Whatever you say, Ginny." 

Ginny bit her lip to keep the snarl from rising out of her throat. She stepped back and sat on a stool in the corner, holding her hands over her knees. Boys were treacherous, that's what they were. Even Neville was turning on her. Neville was different in the greenhouse. He wasn't what you would call graceful, far from it. He just was calmer—some inner tension dissipated when he was alone with the plants. He even looked taller today. Had he grown?

"No, you're still taller, but it can't be helped. Not all of us have Weasley genes. But I'm closing the gap. Ever the late bloomer," he said as he turned around to look at her.

"It's only an inch or two, Neville. And I am tall," she said, standing up next to him.

"He liked you a lot, Gin, go easy on him and don't tease him too much," Neville said, patting her on the shoulder, leaving a smear of dirt on her shirt.

"Neville, I feel like I'm talking to Hermione. Please don't scold me," she said, staring at the glass wall.

"Promise," he said. "Promise you won't," he said.

"Fine, fine, I promise. You're so stubborn, I vow," Ginny said.

He nodded and turned his attention back to the plants. Ginny held the trunk steady for him. They didn't speak for the rest of the afternoon.

---------------------------------------------

The rumours tumbled and twisted through Hogwarts like its ever-changing hallways and stairs. Ginny now was evidently starring in an orgy with Dean Thomas for posting on the World Wizarding Web by Michelmas term. All of this she had done for her true love, Neville Longbottom. Ron, of course was not amused to learn of this.

"Who is that man that dares drag my sister's name through the mud?" Ron roared.

"Neville," Hermione said as she shuffled her notes into order. "And please stop roaring, Ron, Malfoy is going to be here any minute."

"She just broke up with Dean and already she's flaunting her latest, latest, latest…," Ron continued on the top of his lungs.

"I don't know that it's really any of your business, Ron. It's not as if Ginny ever quizzed you about Fleur," Hermione said.

Ron opened his mouth to continue his tirade. Hermione stepped on his foot, pointing to the couch in the common room. Neville sat on one end, absorbed his Herbology book, his mimbulus Mimbletonia crooning on the end table as Trevor glared at back at it, his eyes bulging more than usual.

Ron sat stiffly on the other end of the couch. Hermione sat next to him, looking daggers, her heel clamped down over his toes.

"Ron, I could hear you from the girls' quarters!" Ginny said as she bounded down the stairs.

"Move over, Neville, I want to have a word with my nosy brother," she continued, swatting Neville's leg with her foot.

"The cactus needs its light," Neville said, pointing to the window, never lifting his nose out of his book.

"Fine," Ginny said, sitting on top of Neville, her legs sprawled over Hermione. Hermione squeaked and scooted towards Ron, practically sitting in his lap. Ron proceeded to turn bright red and glared at Ginny, his jaw taut. Ginny however was occupied with settling herself into the couch. This apparently involved entangling her limbs as much as possible with Neville. Neville continued to read his book as if nothing had happened.

"So how are things, Ron?" Ginny said, reaching her arm over Hermione's head to flick Ron's ear.

"They were fine until the world decided to turn on me and prey upon my only baby sister," Ron said, darting dirty looks at Neville. Neville seemed to be reading his book diligently, but Ron saw no need for all that contact between Neville and Ginny. Ginny flicked Ron's ear again, harder this time.

"Ron, you and your hyperactive imagination need to go on a holiday. One too many Quaffle crack your skull? Or perhaps being prefect has overloaded your delicate sensibilities. I can only hope that Hermione has been a comfort to you. She's so organized, isn't she?" Ginny asked as she twirled a curl of Hermione's hair with her finger.

Ron snarled. Hermione glared at him. Ginny wondered how long it would take them to realize that they were practically sprawled on top of each other. Ginny felt Hermione stiffen against her. Ron's snarls suddenly turned into shallow breaths. She swallowed a giggle, glad for Hermione's infamous hair hiding her face.

A pin dropped.

"Oops, Padma," Lavender said.

"Shush, Lavender," Padma whispered loudly, grabbing the pin as they gawked.

The rest of the common room watched raptly. The bets being placed on Neville and Ginny, though intense, could not match the fervor of those placed on Ron and Hermione. There had been sparks between the two of them since first year, for Merlin's sake. The question of if, when and how were a source of great entertainment for the Gryffindors, if not all of Hogwarts. Ginny now bit her lip in earnest, the giggles threatening to spill over. Neville's hand grazed her temple as he turned the page. The cactus was humming more loudly now and Trevor let out a baleful croak. Ginny sighed and leaned her head against the couch. She wondered if Ron and Hermione would finally do something. Not that it mattered, really, but she had put down a whole galleon that she didn't have for a pulling in sixth year in a public place, damn it. She'd get 10 sickles if they pulled in the common room, and that was due to some sweet-talking and eyelash-batting at Lee. 10 sickles would be nice indeed. If something didn't happen soon, the room was going to explode.

"That's not Hermione's foot, mate, but mine," Neville mumbled.

"I didn't know that vicious predators could be so choosy," Ron said, snatching his foot away.

"Ron!" Ginny and Hermione chorused.

"Isn't this just a picture of domestic bliss?" a familiar voice drawled.

"Malfoy!" Ron said as Hermione and Ron struggled to get up, awkwardly fumbling each other in the process. Ginny opened one eye and peered up. Malfoy stood over her, his arms crossed across his chest, playing the pampered public school boy to the hilt. She could see her bloody reflection in his prefect pin. She wished she had remembered to put her socks on before she came dashing down the stairs, but she stayed where she was. Neville continued reading, twisting a lock of Ginny's hair.

"I wouldn't have barged in, but I've already wasted 15 minutes of my time listening to the fat lady's paltry attempts at flirtation," Draco said, his eyes darting ever now and then to Neville and Ginny, his nostrils flaring.

"I don't understand why this year's Head Boy and Head Girl decided we needed to start this Interhouse Relationship Development Committee," Ron grumbled as he shook out his robe.

"We have to learn to live with each other even if we don't like each other. There are more important things to do than perpetuate out-dated, petty rivalries," Hermione said, running a hand unsuccessfully through her hair.

"Some of us have better things to do with our time," Malfoy said. He flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his robe, still glancing occasionally in Ginny's direction. If Malfoy's nostrils flared anymore, Ginny would be tempted to stuff her wand up his nose just to see if she could.

"What is that infernal noise?" Malfoy asked, turning his head to and fro.

"It's the cactus," Hermione said, pointing to the end table.

"It likes the sun. Most plants do," Neville said.

"I suppose that's the sum of your Herbology expertise, Longbottom," Malfoy said, sneering. 

"Draco! We're waiting!" Pansy said, her voice coming from the direction of the entryway to the rest of the school.

"Weasley? Granger?" Malfoy asked, swirling his robe as he turned around.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Malfoy's retreating back.


	5. Chapter Five

Of Inscrutable Conceit

Chapter Five

It was an unaturally warm day for autumn, so Ginny suggested they spend it outside. Neville brought an old blanket and they spread their books around them. Hogwarts loomed behind them, its familiar grey hulk the only dark thing in sight.

Ginny looked up from her book and stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders back.

"Sundays are meant to be spent outdoors, not locked away in a library, don't you think?" Ginny asked.

"Hmm," Neville said, nodding his head as he continued reading, not even looking up from his book.

Ginny rolled her eyes and stretched one more time before lying down on the blanket, propping her head up with one hand as she turned the pages of her book with the other. Neville tugged a lock of her hair and she swatted his hand lightly. These idle moments were getting rarer. Malfoy was a bloody hawk. She snarled. He watched her constantly and he would show up in the most unexpected places. It was if he owned her, which was ludicrious. And Harry, of all people, was starting to watch Malfoy, darting the occasional nervous glance at Ginny.

After breakfast yesterday, Malfoy had stopped her in the hallway and dragged her into a dark corner somewhere.

"Weasley, I don't want you sitting next to Longbottom anymore," he hissed.

"Neville? Why can't I sit next to Neville?"

Malfoy was silent for a long time before he spoke.

"He's too…..common," he said.

"Malfoy, his family is as old as yours or mine, and you know it."

"Stay away from him, Weasley. I don't like it."

Ginny stomped on his foot.

"Oi, I'm not done with you!"

"But I'm done with you, so that's all that matters, Malfoy."

"Mark my words, Weasley. Longbottom is up to no good!"

Neville began to trace circles on her back with his fingers. She could feel the calluses of his fingers through the thin cotton.

"Stroking the leaves insures optimal blooms," Neville muttered under his breath. "This breed particularly prefers circular motions. The following diagram outlines the most effective treatment."

She was a plant, to be watered and petted and left in the sun. You couldn't very well call it romantic now could you? Neville didn't think of her that way.

And then there was Harry. He had come up to her right before lunch that same day.

"Is everything all right, Ginny?" he asked, his hand on her shoulder.

"Yes, everything's just fine, Harry. Why?"

"Don't worry, Ginny, I won't say anything to Ron if you don't want me to."

"Ron? What's Ron got to do with this?"

Harry put his other hand on Ginny's other shoulder and turned Ginny so that they faced each other.

"Ron can be overprotective sometimes."

"Ron sees things where there's nothing, Harry. I'm fine."

"So why is Malfoy staring at you all the time?"

"What?" Ginny sputtered. She glared at Harry. "I don't know what you're talking about. Are you sure you're feeling well? I can walk you to see Madame Pompfery," Ginny said, trying very hard not to stammer.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I can't really blame Malfoy for having taste. You have to watch out for him. He may be joint at the hip with Parkinson, but he would stoop so low as to prey on us, Ginny."

Ginny blinked. Malfoy had some scary insight into the workings of Harry's mind. It was enough to make a girl wonder.

"Perhaps it's all in my mind. I hope it is."

Ginny nodded. "So this conversation is over, I hope?"

"Well, I was going to ask about Neville," Harry said, his gaze like lasers.

"Merlin take me, there's nothing going on. Shall I have Colin take pictures of Neville watering me? I'm a bloody whomping willow for all Neville cares! He'd care more if I were a whomping willow," Ginny said, trying very hard not to start shrieking.

Harry's frown grew deeper. "Were you sleeping at breakfast?"

"Breakfast? I was eating, Harry," Ginny said, enunciating each word clearly and slowly.

"You're lucky Ron slept in today. That's all I'm going to say."

Harry stormed off. Ginny boggled. Had Harry just flounced his robes?

Neville was still tracing circles on her back, his thumb occasionally grazing her spine.

She was been eating toast. Neville was sitting next to her.

"You have crumbs all over, Ginny," Neville said. "Here."

He reached over and wiped her mouth with his thumb.

"Gone?" she asked.

"No, still a few left," he said.

He brushed her bottom lip a few times.

"There, all gone now," he said.

His thumb had calluses too. She could remember feeling their roughness, like a kiss.

She licked her lips, self-consciously. Neville stared for a moment before turning to mumble something to Colin. Luna had come and Ginny had forgotten all about it.

And now she could feel his thumb tracing the sliver of her bare skin between her un-tucked shirt and the waistband of her skirt.

"However, for optimal fruit, one should implement this pattern outlined below," Neville read.

A plant, she was just a bloody plant. Ginny yawned, her eyelids drooping. She missed these idle moments.

Ginny spent the rest of the afternoon with Neville in silence as he continued his plant treatment of lazy circles, ignoring the goosebumps.


	6. Chapter Six

Of Inscrutable Conceit

Chapter Six

Draco had been plagued for days, trying to sort out a proper plan to get back at Longbottom. Longbottom was sinking his green paws into Weasley. He had no right looking at Weasley that way, none whatsoever. And those paws! It was nothing indecent, but it was so very suggestive—the way his hand lingered on the small of her back for that extra second, how his robes would brush against hers, how his face seem to hover mere seconds above hers. That was Malfoy's job. Draco was supposed to seduce Weasley and enrage the trio. Instead, it was Longbottom's name that made Weasley turn dark red in brotherly anger. It made no sense. Longbottom was short and fat. He stuttered. He talked to plants!

Longbottom had to pay. The insult to Malfoy was too great, even if only Draco and Weasley were aware of the slight. The price was high, naturally, so this called for something huge. Draco was of course up for the challenge.

The plan was simple but clever. It was rather ironic, actually. As usual, mistletoe was hung throughout the hallways of Hogwarts in the weeks preceding Christmas. Pimply boys and giggly girls found themselves snogging under the little green boughs, awkwardly, messily and shamelessly. Pansy had cornered Draco under a bough and he gave her a hearty kiss. He was feeling charitable after all. Longbottom was going to meet his doom.

With Pansy on his arm and Crabbe and Goyle behind him, Draco strolled down to stand right by a particular sprig of mistletoe. Longbottom had Charms soon.

Sure enough, Longbottom's stooped, round figure came around the corner. It was only a matter of time. Draco nodded to Crabbe, who stuck his foot out. Draco peered the other way. Chang! Oh, his luck was running high today. Draco smirked and twitched his head towards Goyle while looking at Chang.

Goyle tripped and shoved Chang while Longbottom fell over Crabbe's foot. The two were now standing right under the mistletoe. Chang's jaw dropped as she shot daggers at Goyle while Longbottom looked as if he were ready to sink into the floor.

"Well, it would be terribly poor of the two of you not to indulge in the holiday spirit. I may be forced to take away points. We must keep the morale of the school high," Draco said, his arm hanging loosely around Pansy. Pansy sniggered helplessly.

"Well, it's just a snog, isn't it, Neville?" Chang said, her false cheer fooling no one, the set line of her jaw speaking volumes.

"Yyyeesss," Longbottom managed to stutter, his face bright red.

Longbottom closed his eyes. Draco snickered along with Pansy. This was going to be good. He cradled the back of Chang's head, the other hand cupping the small of her back. Chang tilted her head back slightly, her eyes closed. Longbottom leaned forward and their lips met. Draco could almost taste the outrage and embarrassment. So he waited. And waited. And their lips were locked so tightly, they seemed glued. He cleared his throat. The two jumped back, as if they were just aware that there was an audience.

Chang peered at Longbottom.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to try that again, Neville. I think you missed my lips, and as we know, mistletoe kisses are meant to be on the mouth. A Ravenclaw knows these things," Chang said with a smile as she dragged Longbottom by his tie.

Longbottom was now bright red, but did not appear to be protesting. Draco peered at Longbottom. If he didn't know any better, he would suspect that tongue were involved. A sizeable crowd was now surrounding them. Draco scanned the crowd and saw the perfect person to bring down Longbottom. He tilted his head to his left while looking at Goyle. Goyle grinned and gave Brown a nudge while Crabbe dragged away Chang.

"Oi, I wasn't finished, you brute!" Chang yelped.

Brown made a face, wrinkling her nose at Longbottom. Draco pointed at the mistletoe, glaring at Brown.

"You're in the same House. If you don't comply, it's quadruple points. Chop chop, get to it, Brown, Longbottom," Draco drawled. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered while Pansy looked merely bored, pausing only to flutter her eyelids up at Draco.

Longbottom was still quite red in the face, but he seemed to be standing straighter. Bah, what did Chang know anyways? She dated Potter—clearly she had poor taste. Brown was a true girl. Longbottom did not stand a chance against her.

Longbottom began stroking Brown's hair and she was smiling. He flicked up an errant strand and tucked it behind her ear. She was giggling now. The nerve of Longbottom.

"I said kissing, not brushing her hair! You're supposed to kiss her, Longbottom! You're not a bloody maid," Draco said, squeezing Pansy so tightly, she squealed in protest.

Brown wrinkled her nose. Longbottom shrugged and leaned in to kiss Brown, stroking her upper arms. Brown moaned a bit and seemed to melt into him. The crowds were growing larger and there was some whistling and catcalling now. That was definitely tongue, and he thought it was Brown's. The airhead had failed him.

What he needed now was someone stolid and dependable, someone who would need magic to move her. He twisted his mouth. Pansy nudged him in the elbow and pointed at Abbott. He gifted her with a radiant smile. Sometimes, he felt he did Pansy a disservice. She wasn't so terrible, really. Just rather…puggish. But it was charming in its own way.

Draco coughed loudly.

"That's enough, Brown. No points will be docked from you. On your way now," he said, waving his hands in a shooing motion. Goyle assisted Brown, extricating her from Longbottom's arms. Brown stomped on Goyle's feet, but to no avail. Crabbe brought a squirming Abbott in front of Longbottom.

"Now, Abbott, it would really be awful if you didn't set an example as prefect now. Mistletoe is mistletoe, as they would say," Draco said, smirking. Nothing ever moved Abbott. She was an exemplary Hufflepuff, loyal and plodding. It took all his self-control not to burst into peals of victorious laughter.

The crowd of students begin to jeer so loudly, the halls shook with echoes. Longbottom was now staring at Draco, his hands thrust into his pockets. The red had faded to a bright pink. Draco glared back. Longbottom had no right to look at him like that.

Abbott shrugged her shoulders and smiled at the crowd.

"Fair enough, Malfoy. I'll…" Abbot began saying before Longbottom rudely interrupted. His hands were now tracing circles on her back as he strained on his toes. Draco would normally be astonished at his ability to adapt, but now the crowd was pleased, and he swore he saw knuts and sickles exchanging hands. He kicked the wall. Blast, this was supposed to be Longbottom's downfall.

"Neville," said a girl's voice, quietly. Draco saw a familiar flash of red and his scowl turned into a sneer. Oh, Merlin, all was not lost yet!

Abbott blushed and stepped away from the mistletoe, leaving Longbottom and Weasley. The crowd was silent now, staring at Longbottom and Weasley.

"We seem to be standing underneath the mistletoe, Neville. You know what that means," Weasley said. Draco watched the scene unfold. He was unable to breathe, unable to swallow—a lump had moved in while he wasn't looking.

Longbottom was now very pale, his pupils so dilated, they were like black wells. 

"Yes, we are, Ginny," he said.

She stepped forward and took his hand in hers. They stood there, staring at each other. Longbottom leaned forward and gave her a chaste peck on the lips. The crowd, and Draco, gave out a huge sigh.

Weasley frowned and walked away. Longbottom stared at her retreating back for a moment and picked up his forgotten books.

"I'm late to Charms. Must hurry. Don't want a detention," Longbottom muttered as he elbowed his way out of the crowd.

Draco was most unpleased. He was again thwarted. He would remember this. He stormed off, Pansy still on his arm as Crabbe and Goyle trailed behind them.

---------------------------------------------

Draco was absorbed in his Potion O.W.L.S. textbook. He was, really. The texture of the paper was chafing his fingers and he'd not seen ink this cheap since he'd tripped on a copy of the _Quibbler_ this morning. But, even in his absorption, he couldn't help overhearing the buzz around him.

"Have you heard the latest?"  
"Well, if it's worth incurring the wrath of Madame Pince, which your oh so loud tone would indicate, I suppose it bears repeating."  
"Uh, is that a yes or a no?"  
"Spit it already."  
"Neville Longbottom is a snogging master."

Draco was grateful for the long silence. Shock was the appropriate response to such a statement.

"Close your mouth, I'm serious. Baker's cousin's class mate saw proof with her very own eyes."  
"This better be based on reality, unlike those pictures of the Wyrd Sisters you promised."  
"Oi, I can't help it if the pictures were Photospelled. My sources never failed me before."  
"Well, are you going to finish or not?"  
"Longbottom kissed four, count them, FOUR BIRDS under the mistletoe."

There was another long pause. Draco had now begun doodling in the margin of his textbook--a lumpy stick figure hung from a makeshift gallows while a lanky, debonair figure watched, cheering on with "HAHAHA".

"A frog could kiss all the girls he wanted--wouldn't make him a prince."

Draco would have kissed this disbeliever, clearly a paragon of paragons, blessed with insight beyond his years.

"You need more proof? Ask around. Lavender Brown moons around the Gryffindor common room, waiting in giggly hysterics for any sign of Longbottom. Cho Chang has taken to hanging around the greenhouse, despite acing her Herbology O.W.L.S. Hannah Abott has even broken Prefect rank and started breaking her fast at the Gryffindor table."

Draco could see the evil gossip monger ticking the points off on her fingers. He repressed the urge to strangle her, instead stabbing the lumpy figure with the tip of his quill. The disbelieving listener snorted and Draco now had to repress the urge to ask his hand in marriage.

"What of the fourth? Your charmer seems to have only made Second First."

The big mouth gasped.

"What you haven't heard?"  
"Er, no."  
"I swear, you really do live with your head in a bag. The fourth was..."

Draco resisted the urge to throw his textbook at the vile spreader of tales. This was the library, not a bloody theatre.

"Out with it already!"  
"Ginny Weasley."

Draco could feel the clueless one raise his eyebrow.

"Well, if anyone were going to swoon over Longbottom, you would think it would be her."  
"'S the oddest thing of all. Their episode under the mistletoe was actually rather tame and boring."

Stabbing was not good enough for the lumpy figure--Draco began to draw dark X's over the poor, unoffending person while drawing storm clouds over the other figure.

"Ha, you're just peeved because you're afraid of losing money."  
"I am not. Besides, the year is young yet."

Draco should have been happy that nothing happened. No, he shouldn't be happy because he didn't care. However, it was natural, he was upset that the players were not following their roles. Longbottom was the bumbler. Weasley was the green hoyden. He was to be the puppetmaster. And since he was the puppetmaster, it was time to pull some strings.

But first things first.

Draco closed his book and swept up the rest in his arms, his robe billowing out around him dramatically. He walked over to the chatty duo and gave them a stern glare.

"What are your Houses?" he asked, his prefect badge twinkling in the candelight.

"Er Hufflepuff," said the loose-lipped girl. Pale inspid thing, no wonder she succumbed to the dirty sin of gossip.

"Ravenclaw," said the boy with pinched look about his eyes. Who knew that Ravenclaw housed such wonderous logic? Draco was almost regretful at having to dock him points, but then he remembered that the feckless bookworm had put money, MONEY on Longbottom and Weasley. His rue faded.

"Fifty points each for talking in the library. You know Madame Pince's policy. I'm afraid I'm going to have to report you."

And with a prim sniff, he was off. He sighed. His life was so very hard. He stalked past the gaping fools and hurried to his room. Once in his room, he threw his books to the ground and began search for a piece of parchment. He quickly scrawled a brief note.

Meet me after dinner

He fed his owl a snack before whispering Weasley's name in his ear.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Of Inscrutable Conceit**

_Chapter Seven_

Ginny read the note and folded it before slipping it back into her pocket. His Greatness had deigned to speak with her after a silence of several weeks. Ginny gave a chunk of rare meat to the owl. It was simply infuriating how Malfoy would show off. It seemed at every opportunity, he was owling her things. Was his head so far up his arse that he didn't think people would notice? Perhaps this was common in the Slytherin set of cosseted students, but Ginny receiving an owl attracted notice. Malfoy's owl was particularly spectacular and sweet too. Ginny smoothed the owl's feather with one finger.

All the occupants of the Great Hall watched this transaction with great interest. She had no bloody idea why. Neville was sitting right next to her. If he wanted to say something, he could simply lean over and say it to her. For some reason, the thought of Neville's mouth so close to her ear made her shiver. Ron jerked his head at her sudden movement, shooting Neville a dark look. The ever present murmur grew a little louder. Ginny refrained from throwing her lunch at the nosy, but otherwise, innocent audience. It would serve her better in her stomach.

She sighed. These last few days had been torture. Everyone would stare at her when she was even in the same room as Neville. And Neville knew no peace. All of his former haunts were swarming with invaders now. It was getting to the point where Professor Sprout was demanding that students show assignments before allowing them into the greenhouse. Ron had challenged Neville to a duel twice, talked down both times by Hermione. Ginny also had yet another conversation with Harry.

He had pulled her aside into a quiet hallway, the stairway turning behind them so they were alone.

"How are you doing, Gin?" he asked.

"Fine," Ginny mumbled, trying to not to sound too mulish. Harry meant well.

"You haven't been yourself lately and I just wanted you to know that you could talk to me. I know Ron's being a bit of an ass," Harry said without stumbling too much. Ginny smiled in spite of herself.

"I've just been tired. People should know how to mind their own business. You know what I mean," she said

Harry nodded. It was nice to have someone who understood.

"It's not like Neville want to kiss them. There was mistletoe, you know, holiday cheer," he said while patting her arm.

Ginny gave Harry her mother's best death stare.

"You boys are all thick, aren't you?"

The stairway had returned. She stalked off. Meaning was good and all, but Harry had the sensitivity of a dead stump.

Ginny wondered if Malfoy had noticed any of this. It was so hard to tell with Malfoy. He was somewhat narrow in his scope--he rarely noticed anything that didn't pertain to the Malfoys. He didn't like Neville, but he didn't like anyone, so that didn't mean much. She rolled her eyes. She had no idea why Malfoy wanted to meet with her now. It had been some time since they had discussed their "plan".

"Gbye," Neville mumbled as he shuffled off before Ginny could respond.

Ginny had hoped Malfoy had forgotten of his stupid plan. But it might serve as a much needed distraction.

---------------------------------------------

Ginny went to the cupboard after dinner. Malfoy was sitting in the chair and appeared to be reading something. He snapped the book shut. It was thin, but it had a hard cover.

"So why have you decided to grace me with your presence, Malfoy?" she asked.

He turned around. Ginny blinked. She'd never seen Malfoy look so terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes. His tie was crooked and his sleeves were rolled up.

He shoved his hair out of his face, massaging the top of his head furiously. His eyes were dark and they seemed to bore into her.

"You really don't like Potter, do you?" he asked in a low voice.

"That's why you brought me here? I've told you that from the beginning," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could utter a word, Malfoy began kissing her. Ginny thought of struggling but her mind went back to Neville's kiss, no, PECK, and she relaxed. Several minutes passed and Ginny squirmed. Malfoy's concentration was unnerving.

"A girl has to breathe, Malfoy," Ginny said, taking a long, full breath as she took a half step back.

"So is there someone?" Malfoy asked, still staring at her.

"No," she said. Of course there wasn't anyone. That was how she managed to say no without a tremor.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

"Of course I'm sure, there's no need to ask again," she responded. Then again, the more she said it, the more she believed it.

"Good. It's important to ignore the peons," Malfoy muttered as if she weren't there. "Now, where were we...?"

Ginny coughed.

Malfoy raised his eyebrow. "Yes? Would you like me to brew a Pepper-Up Potion?"

"Peons?"

"Ah, I overheard some gossip in the library. It's not anything important," Malfoy said. "Now, lessons, Weasley. We have to get rid of this squirming habit. Maidens in love do not squirm."

"First, what did the peons say?" Ginny continued, ignoring his hand as it traced lazy circles on her back. Neville used to do that. It was wrong that Malfoy was doing it now. No, her eyes weren't tearing up. It was just the dust in the library. It made her eyes water. 

"Something about you and Longbottom and mistletoe," Malfoy said nonchalantly. "You know, I never know where to look for the clasp. The front seems rather audacious for you, Weasley."

A red film flooded Ginny's vision. She shoved Malfoy away. The nerve of this bloody school. So they thought they knew what Ginerva Weasley was up to? Ginerva Weasley would show them.

She seized Malfoy's tie, pulling his face close to hers and gave him a cool look of appraisal.

"I bet we're not even in the betting books," Ginny murmured.

Malfoy snorted.

"Of course we are. The odds are so ridiculous, they laughed when Goyle and Crabbe put down their sickles," he said, tossing his nose up. "The bookies assumed they didn't know how to spell Pansy. It's not really such a stretch for Goyle and Crabbe."

Ginny laughed in spite of herself. Malfoy winked.

"Practice makes perfect, Weasley. Besides, I've got to get you back before curfew. I take my duties as a prefect seriously,"

Malfoy dragged Ginny into his lap. She rolled her eyes and grimaced slightly. She did have to put up some fight or else he'd actually think she wanted to be there. But Ginny was going to have the last laugh. Besides, there was something to be said for a boy that wasn't repulsed by her. Oh, she would show them indeed. Thoughts of revenge fled as she practiced in earnest, her fingers easing Malfoy's book out of his grasp.

---------------------------------------------

Ginny wondered at Malfoy's renewed interest. Now that Dean was out of the picture and Neville acted as if she no longer existed, it was nice to have someone, even if that someone was Malfoy. Granted, he was irritating and rather pointy-looking, but neither mattered when her eyes were closed. She giggled. But she was still suspicious. Who really knew what went on in that pale head of his? Cramped quarters created proximity which was not to be confused with intimacy. Malfoy was exerting a lot of effort for mere revenge. But Ginny wasn't in any rush to sort out matters. So a week or two passed before Ginny pushed Malfoy away during one of their rehersals.

"Weasley, I thought I weaned you off the pushing," Malfoy said while he readjusted his tie.

She rolled her eyes. "No one can see us when we're here, you do realise," she said, snorting.

"There are eyes everywhere," he said in lofty tones. "I can't help being thorough."

"Just because you're a snoop and a rat doesn't mean everyone else is," she snapped back.

Malfoy tensed for a second before shrugging his shoulders in an elegant rolling motion.

"This school is a den of gossip and you know it. Stay sharp, Weasley," Malfoy drawled, lifting his nose in the air.

"Sharp for what? A timeline would be nice," she said, jabbing him in his chest.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"You know very well what I mean," she continued, startled a bit by her short temper.

He simply shook his head, opening his eyes wide.

"Your meaning is lost on me, Weasley. Enlighten me," he said as he leaned back in the chair, his feet resting on the desk.

"What happened to your grand public show? Sneaking around in study cupboards isn't the point, Malfoy. You've missed a perfect opportunity in the Yule Ball. One would almost think you enjoy my company," Ginny said as she ticked points off on her fingers.

Draco raised both his eyebrows and flashed her a smug smile.

Ginny blushed in spite of her self.

"Not that I care what you think of me. My point is, don't waste my time," she continued hotly. She was supposed to be the one making him uncomfortable. This was not going as she had planned.

"The time isn't right yet, Weasley. All the pieces of the plan haven't fallen into place yet," he said smoothly, playing idly with her hair.

"You mean your plan," she pointed out.

"Well, of course," Malfoy said, not even pretending to consider the matter.

"It's OUR plan, Malfoy. You can't pull it off without me and you know it. You could try, but your your love of yourself is no secret in Hogwarts," she said, still blushing furiously. He had seemed so pathetic when he sent that note. She wrinkled her nose. She couldn't figure out what had changed in the last week or two. Whatever it was, it was giving him the upper hand. Ginny wasn't having any of that. 

"Well, if you want me to be so vulgar as to state the obvious, I am the brains of this operation," he said, paying more attention to the way her hair fell than their conversation. The nerve of the bloody git!

"If it's so obvious, I suppose there isn't anything more to say," Ginny said as she took his hand out of her hair and walked out of the cupboard.

"Boys," she muttered, kicking the wall for good measure. He wasn't getting away that easily.

---------------------------------------------

The Gryffindor-Slytherin match had the school all a buzz with excitement. Harry had been struck by a stray Bludger and his balance was off. It wasn't anything serious, but Madame Pomfrey insisted that Harry stay off his broom for at least two weeks. Harry, bless, had tried to fly. The minute he got on his broom though, he promptly fell off. A Seeker who could not stay on his broom was no Seeker. So Harry sat out this match, sitting in the bleachers with the rest of the House. That meant Gryffindor had no Seeker. As Capitan, Harry had appointed Ginny as the replacement Seeker.

Ginny didn't really like flying Seeker—it was a little too flashy for her taste. However, she was the fastest flyer after Harry and no one came even close. As she flew over to the pitch, she saw Malfoy floating across from her. His face was looking thinner and paler than usual. When he saw her looking at him, he smirked. Was he mouthing "Brains" at her? She grimaced.

Luna and Professor McGonagall were standing together at the commentator's booth. Luna appeared to be absorbed in her necklace. Professor McGonagall nudged Luna.

"Harry won't be playing today cos he's feeling a bit dizzy. But Ginny's taking his place, cos she flies fast, well faster than everyone else. Anyways, Gryffindor is playing against Slytherin. It looks like a Christmas party out there, doesn't it?" Luna said. Professor McGonagall stood there with her eyes closed. Ginny giggled.

Ginny waited patiently, her eyes scanning the field anxiously. The game went on around her as she flew around the field. Luna, meanwhile, was wondering if Malfoy's patronus wouldn't be a whippet, given his remarkable resemblance to the animal, also noting that whippets were quite cuddly and might improve Malfoy's luck with the ladies. Ginny bit her lip at that, trying not to laugh. The crowd, however, had no such restraints. Malfoy looked as if he were going to fly over and strangle Luna. Ginny reminded herself to give Luna all of her butter beer caps from now until the end of term.

Malfoy zoomed by, a blur of grey and green, jerking her out of her reverie. Drat, he'd seen it first. Ginny went after him, weaving and bobbing, just barely missing a Bludger. She was closing in on his lead. Malfoy fell behind, the Quaffle thudding against his left arm. He winced but didn't stop. They were now flying neck in neck. She turned towards him and flew in closer, close enough to lean in and touch him. So Malfoy thought he had the upper hand? And everyone thought their whispers about Neville were so clever? Well, Ginny Weasley knew how to call the shots. The Snitch was so close, they were both holding out their hands. She turned and smacked Malfoy a big sloppy kiss. His grip on his broom loosened, his arms falling slack to his sides as he leaned in. She grinned and broke away, grabbing the golden blur that was a Snitch. Oh, this was too perfect.

There was complete silence.

"Ginny Weasley kissed Draco Malfoy for the Snitch! And I think he liked it. That was very sneaky of you, Ginny, I don't think he expected that. I wonder if whippets have cooties though," Luna announced.

Professor McGonagall shook her head and flipped the scoreboard.

"Gryffindor wins, 379 to 84!" 

Malfoy had been staring at her, his hand covering his mouth. At McGonagall's words, he blinked several times before turning to Ginny, glaring.

"Why you little---that's cheating!" Malfoy shouted.

"There's nothing in the Quidditch handbook about kissing. So who's the brains?" Ginny replied, buffing her nails. Winning the Quidditch match was brilliant, naturally. Malfoy's shock was sweet victory. Ron's mottled purple face however? That was priceless. Hermione appeared to be fanning something over Harry's prone body. Ginny pointedly ignored the reactions of Neville and his adoring harem.

Ginny blew Malfoy a kiss before flying off the pitch.

The students of Hogwarts roared. The bookies would be busy tonight.

Notes

1. The idea for this little Quidditch match snogging is brought to you by potterpuffs on livejournal. She did a brilliant comic short that served as the inspiration. Much love!


	8. Chapter Eight

Of Inscrutable Conceit

Chapter Eight

Draco grimly walked the streets of Hogsmeade alone, not even bothering to mutter the spell to keep the misty rain off his robes. Yesterday's events had not quite sunk in yet. It was surreal. Pansy was not speaking to him. It wasn't an intentional vow of silence. She simply burst into tears whenever he walked into the same room as her, thereby making coherent speech a distant possibility. He tried at first to protest, to blame the vixen Weasley. Given his plan, though, such claims sounded weak. Besides, now that Weasley had made the opening gambit, he looked like the seducee. That simply was not on. Draco snarled as he turned a corner. 

This morning was even worse. Again, Draco had walked in to a sobbing Pansy. The sight caused him a twinge of remorse. He usually found her petulant posing and preening tiresome. This display however seemed authentic. Pansy would never allow herself to be seen in the common room with red eyes and dishevelled hair. Draco frowned. Pansy was being silly--he should not indulge her. Draco was about to tell her so when Blaise walked in, a picture of gleaming ebon perfection. 

"Draco, you've finally got me beat. I never though I would see the day. Nabbing Ginny Weasley! Prettiest girl in the school, excepting present company of course. And to think you snatched her out of Longbottom's green grasp. I suppose Potter is a remote third now, eh?" Blaise drawled, a malicious gleam in his eyes.

Pansy let out a low moan. Draco bared his teeth at Blaise. Blaise merely shrugged his shoulders before strolling out of the common room. What a bloody git.

Crabbe and Goyle walked into the common room, looking slightly baffled. They turned to Draco and then the still sobbing Pansy. Goyle began to pat Pansy awkwardly on her shoulder. Crabbe looked at Draco again, but Draco was too busy shooting rays of death into Blaise's back and could offer no guidance.

"We didn't mean to put money on Ginny. We thought we were spelling Pansy's name right and the bookies were just funning us," Goyle mumbled.

Crabbe punched Goyle in the arm, but it was too late. Pansy let out a second, louder wail as she swatted Goyle's hand away. Goyle and Crabbe both jumped up and scurried off. Draco winced. It was enough to make a man look into new underlings--unquestioning loyalty was of paramount importance, but a filter of some sort would be nice.

"Er, well, I'm off to Hogsmeade," Draco said loudly to no one in particular. "Some errands to run."

The only sound in the common room was Pansy's sobbing.

"So, well, ta."

Draco welcomed the grey drizzle. It matched his mood and took off the edge of his frustration. Besides, his plan had nearly reached frutition. He couldn't declare defeat just yet. He stopped in front of a nondescript building off the high street. He rang the bell and leaned against the door frame, plastering boredom upon his face. The door opened, revealing a clerk wearing an impeccably tailored robe.

"Ah, Master Malfoy, well come. Your order is waiting for you. Please, come in," the clerk said.

Draco nodded and followed the clerk into the shop. The shop oozed of galleons--the soothing, shifting colours of the walls, the refreshing scent in the air, the shiny baubles on display and the attractive yet non-obstrusive staff. Draco took in a deep lungful of the sweet air and felt slightly better.

"Would you like a pumpkin latte while you wait, Master Malfoy?" the clerk asked, extending a glass mug filled with the delicious brew capped with foamed milk.

Draco sighed as he leaned back, falling into a conveniently placed overstuffed armchair, accepting the mug with a languid hand. He sipped the coffee, relishing the tickle of the foam against his upper lip. Hogwarts could take some notes.

Soft music began to pipe through the store. Another clerk entered, bearing a white box on top of a silver tray. The clerk lowered the tray before Draco, lifting the top of the box. In the box lay a yellow rosebud.

Draco lifted the rose out of the box and examined it carefully. He pulled a strand of hair out of his pouch, examining the red gold against the yellow. He nodded and turned to the clerk.

"The colour seems about right, but is there any way to test it?" Draco asked, somewhat superflously. This mecca of materialism would cater to his every whim, especially considering how much he paid to realise his whim.

"Of course, Master Malfoy. Put the rose on and test it yourself," the clerk replied smoothly.

Draco tucked the rosebud behind his ear. The rose suddenly burst into bloom, its petals turning a deep tangerine. The clerk held up a mirror. Draco peered and compared the strand to the now blooming rose. He frowned. It didn't quite clash but it was rather ostentatious. Well, Weasley was a showy bird. It shouldn't be too much of a problem.

"It's merely empathic, Master Malfoy, so you'll only be able to tell the strength of the emotion. The more orange the rose, the more positive the emotion is, but it's not quite exact," the clerk continued, with an apologetic half-smile. "It would take another six months for us to craft a more exact rose, but as I understand, you are working under strict time constraints. You will be seeing some interesting variations of yellow and orange, however. Do not feel cheated simply because you have two colours. You will learn to gauge their range."

Draco grimaced slightly. He didn't want the clerk to know how pleased he was. Keep them jumping, he'd always said.

"You'll have to prick yourself on the rose's thorns. It will be attuned to you. And it will have a particular affinity to the young lady once you offer it to her. We would recommend that you share the bloom with only one young lady. They're rather sensitive and become somewhat off-kilter if they're exposed to too many people."

"This is what I paid all those galleons for?" he demanded.

The clerk shrugged his shoulders, still flashing his apologetic half-smile.

"Their empathy is a double-ended wand, Master Malfoy. Sensitivity comes at a price. As I was saying, the rose will also grow thorns if the young lady thinks of another besides yourself. These are psychic thorns, so she won't actually cut and bleed, but she will feel as if she has," the clerk said. "We had to dig for that spell. It's rather old-fashioned and has fallen out of vogue."

The clerk just barely managed to keep his amusement out of his voice.

"We Malfoys are an old-fashioned clan," Draco said, making a note to complain to the manager.

Draco pulled the rose off and the orange hue fled from the petals until only the edges were tinged with apricot, the petals returning to their pale yellow, furling again into a bud.

"Is there anything else you would like to see today, Master Malfoy?" the clerk asked.

Draco nodded. "Your jewelery. There are a few things I would like to pick up."

---------------------------------------------

Draco tapped his toe impatiently. She was late. He had told her to be at The Three Broomsticks by 3 o'clock. He swirled his pint of butterbeer, too agitated to drink. There were a sizable number of Hogwarts students—all witnesses to his opening move. He smiled into his pint and took a sip. He could drink to that.

Ginny sauntered into the pub, Looney Lovegood trailing behind her. Draco tried not to wince. Why was she wearing brown and orange? She looked like a bloody scarecrow. The jumper had a giant B on it and the corduroy skirt had seen better days. And Looney. Draco bared his teeth. Whippet? He would show her whippet.

Ginny sat at the bar, next to Draco.

"Two butterbeers, please," Ginny said.

"Hello, Weasley," Draco drawled.

Looney blinked.

"Lovegood," he added curtly.

"I just want you to know there's no hard feelings for Quidditch yesterday. It's like they say—all's fair in love and Quidditch," Draco said, showing all of his teeth.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. Draco's smile grew wider. This was going to be so much fun!

"I certainly don't have any hard feelings, Malfoy," she said slowly. "It was a good match."

"And to prove that there are no hard feelings, I've brought a token," Draco said, revealing the white box from the folds of his robe, holding it in front of her.

Ginny stiffened. Looney stared at Draco, her eyes popping so much that Draco feared they would fall to the floor. Draco just managed to keep the sneer off his face.

"It won't bite, Weasley," Draco said.

It's not like he was lying. The rose would just prick every now and then. Ginny stared at the box, not moving.

"It's rude not to receive a gift, Weasley," Draco said, relishing her discomfort.

Ginny glared at him.

"Very well, I will do the honours then," Draco said with an angelic beam.

He opened the box and removed the rose. Looney let out a small gasp. Ginny began looking around the pub nervously. Before she could step away, Draco grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, tucking the rose behind her ear.

"It's meant to be worn, Weasley. There are no hard feelings, you see. In fact, you might say my feelings are rather…soft," he said in dulcet tones.

Looney's jaw seemed to have hit the floor. Ginny, however, wore a look that reminded him of baby deer and drowned kittens. The rose turned a deep, deep orange—so deep, it was nearly the colour of Weasley's hair. This was more like it.

"Of course, there isn't any pressure. Take as long as you need," Draco said, raising Ginny's hand, allowing his lips to brush gently against it.

With a flourish, he released her hand and walked out of the pub. Draco managed to refrain from skipping until he was on the high street.


	9. Chapter Nine

Of Inscrutable Conceit

Chapter Nine

Ginny was on her sixth butterbeer. She was going to kill Malfoy.

"Well, it is pretty, Ginny. It could be worse. He could have given you rotten fish," Luna said in an attempt to comfort Ginny.

"This is his idea of a joke. It's a bloody joke to him, Luna," Ginny muttered before taking a long gulp of her butterbeer.

Everyone in the pub was dying to ask Ginny questions, but she had nearly bit off Ernie Macmillian's head when he had tried shortly after Draco had left. The crowd settled upon buzzing whispers around her.

"I'm done, Luna, let's go. If we hurry, we can catch the Cannonson the wireless," Ginny said, casting a dark look at the occupants of the pub.

Luna shrugged.

"I suppose I don't have anything better to do," Luna said, hopping down from her perch.

Ginny, however, had already stalked off. She was going to kill Malfoy. She had been in such a good mood this morning. She had worn the Cannons' colours—today would be the match that determined whether or not they would be competing for the World Cup. There was going to be a listening party in the common room. The kiss at least she could write off as Weasley cheek. Now she had this stupid rose from stupid bloody Malfoy and everyone would be pestering her about it. She told the twerp that she wanted to be a partner and he took that to mean target of public humiliation.

Well, there way one way to end it. She raised her hand to her ear and attempted to pull the flower off. It did not budge. She frowned and shook her head. The flower seemed to be lodged in place. She bent over and began to toss her hair to and fro. The rose did not move.

Luna leaned forward and peered at the rose.

"It's nearly the same colour as your hair, Ginny! Malfoy really knows what he's doing. He even got it charmed to never be lost. He's pretty impressive for a whippet," Luna said. "Maybe he really likes you."

Ginny snapped back up, her face nearly as red as her hair.

"Don't be ridiculous, Luna. I don't want to hear another word about this stupid rose. If we hurry, we can catch the bus back to school," Ginny said sharply.

---------------------------------------------

Luna had begged off. Ginny had mentioned slyly that Ron would be there, but Luna made a face.

"I don't understand how you can be so mad for Quidditch. It's so silly," Luna said.

Ginny didn't push the issue—if Luna came, she would be sure to mention the incident with Malfoy at the pub. The rose had shrunk to a half bloom. Ginny rearranged her hair so that it hide the rose, more or less.

A group of students were huddled around a wireless sitting in the middle of the common room.

"I haven't missed much, have I?" Ginny asked as she made her way over to the group.

"No, things have just started getting heating up. The Snitch has been spotted!" Ron shouted; thumping Ginny's back for good measure.

Ginny clapped her hands. Ron shoved his way back to the inner circle. Ginny however, sat down, happy to be in the fringe.

She nudged the person next to her and asked, "So what's the score?"

"Cannons are down by 80, it's not looking good for them," Neville said.

Ginny blushed and the rose bloomed. She felt a pricking sensation and raised her hand to touch the stem. No thorns and yet she could feel them. Neville peered at her ear.

"Wot's that, Ginny?" Neville asked.

"It's a rose that I found," Ginny said, lying through her teeth.

"I don't think those are the sorts of roses you just find lying about, Ginny," Neville said mildly. "Mind if I have a look at it?"

"No!" Ginny shouted, scooting away from him.

Neville's face fell and Ginny felt her stomach drop. The pricking sensation grew stronger. Blast Malfoy.

"Well, I suppose if you want, it's just a rose after all," Ginny said.

She didn't know how she was going to explain the rose's attachment charm, but she wasn't the twins' sister for nothing.

"Are you sure, Ginny? I know that…." Neville said, his voice trailing off.

"No, really, it's all right, Nev, I promise," Ginny said, smiling despite the stabbing pain. Death was too kind for Malfoy.

Neville reached over and gingerly removed the rose from her ear. He stared at it intently and began clucking, shaking his head.

"That is a cruel thing to do to an innocent plant," Neville muttered, half to himself. "But it is a pretty bit of work."

The rose, meanwhile, had burst into full bloom and was yet again the same colour as Ginny's hair. Ginny frowned. Love tokens weren't supposed to react that way to other boys. Then again, plants always were a bit batty about Neville. He had that affect on them. Even the Whomping Willow tried cuddling up to Neville. That had been a sight to see. Harry and Ron could talk of nothing else for days, to the detriment of Neville's complexion.

"It suits you," Neville said, tucking it back behind her ear.

The stabbing pain was gone. Ginny blinked. She smiled at Neville and Neville smiled back, slowly and shyly, but a smile nonetheless.

---------------------------------------------

Ginny walked to the greenhouse with a bounce in her step. Somehow, Malfoy's hideous gift had turned into a boon. Trust Neville to fall for a flower. Ginny peered into the thick glass, barely able to discern much of anything in its murky green depths. Neville had promised to help her feed the rose.

"You're not going to water my head, are you, Neville?" she had asked, a mock scowl on her face.

"Of course not, Ginny," Neville had stammered, waving his hands before Ginny burst into a fit of giggles.

Neville, of course, was bright red, but he soon joined in her laughter. He hadn't probed any further where she had found the rose. She hoped he was too enamored with the new bloom to think of silly questions like where, who, and why. If asked, she would lie, of course, but as a last resort. Neville had this way of finding out her lies.

Ginny looked around. Neville's admirers appeared to have abandoned their posts. She released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Things were practically back to normal.

"Weasley, if you wanted to know how to take care of the gift, shouldn't you ask the giver?" someone asked in a familiar drawl.

"Poor taste to put a tracking spell on a love token and bad luck besides, Malfoy," Ginny replied with a teeth-baring grimace.

Draco laughed and tossed his head for full effect, causing his hair to flare out like a pale halo.

"A tracking spell would be wasted galleons, dearest Weasley. You are not a hard bird to suss out," Draco said. "Besides, did you think you had to water the bloody thing? This is not your garden-variety love token."

Draco chuckled at his own joke. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, it's not common amongst my sort to brand," Ginny said.

Draco winced and Ginny barely managed not to smirk.

"I thought independent investigation was called for. Of course, there's no need for you to stay, since you know everything. No need to watch the peons mucking about," Ginny continued airily, waving a hand at Draco.

"Be that as it may, I think I will crash your little rendezvous. Longbottom does have a way with botany," Draco said, frowning slightly.

Ginny blinked. That was unexpected. He was up to something.

"I'd rather you not, Malfoy," Ginny said, smiling sweetly.

Draco's frown grew deeper. Ginny smiled even harder. He reached out and pulled the rose from behind her ear.

"I'm sure you'll have a very fruitful meeting then. Cheers," Draco said, tucking the rose into his prefect pin.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. Brat, brat and double brat. She grabbed his robe and yanked hard.

"You're welcome to explain your presence then, since you're the brains. You wouldn't want my hopeless clodding," Ginny snapped.

She dropped his robe and spun on her heel, briskly walking into the greenhouse. Draco did not respond, he merely hopped behind her like a rabbit in springtime. The greenhouse had grown lusher in her absence—she could barely make her way through the foliage. Where was Neville? The sound of muffled voices could be heard to her left. She swatted away, changing the direction of her path.

"Why can't you all just leave me bbbbloody alone?" Neville stammered.

Ginny stiffened and stopped in her tracks. Draco stumbled and leaned heavily against her.

"Trust me, Longbottom, I'm not so stupid as to believe those rumours. I was there, after all," a girl replied in a stiff voice.

Ginny felt Draco strain against her.

"Oops, seems that Longbottom's double-booking, tut tut," he whispered into her ear. "Move closer, I can't hear them clearly."

Ginny elbowed Draco in the ribs but grudgingly moved a foot or two in the direction of the voices.

"Ssssoo you know where the door is. Leave me alone," Neville said, his voice growing stronger.

"But they looked like they were having fun, and you couldn't have been bribing all of them," the girl said coolly.

Ginny snarled. She could imagine the bint eying poor Neville like a piece of meat. She felt Draco's body shaking against her back.

"Stop laughing, it's not funny, Malfoy," Ginny hissed through her teeth.

"Iiii can't speak, you really have to go. I'm supposed to meeting someone," Neville pleaded.

"Oh, really? Who?" the girl asked.

"Errrr, that's none of your business," Neville said.

"It's Weasley, isn't it?" the girl said.

Draco stiffened and Ginny turned to look back at him. Draco shook his head and raised a finger to his lips, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"I said it's none of your business, so sod off," Neville said.

Ginny marveled at the lack of stuttering. He was really angry.

"All the better. She's exactly the one I want," the girl said.

Ginny waited for Neville to say something. However, there was only silence.

"The silly bird left, can we go now?" Ginny whispered as she turned to face Draco.

"You're the silly bird. She's still there. Can't you hear? They're snogging," Draco whispered back.

Ginny began stomping the ground and Draco grabbed her in an attempt to still her.

"How can you be so bloody calm? Neville's snogging that stupid bint," Ginny hissed.

"It's sweet, really. I didn't realize how much Pansy cared until now," Draco whispered back, still holding her in place.

"What?" Ginny shouted.

Draco shot her a dirty look, but it was too late. There was a pause and some awkward coughing.

"Ginny?" Neville asked.

Ginny turned bright red and Draco smirked. He began ruffling her hair and Ginny stared. Draco shrugged and began to loosen his tie. Neville's head popped up between the nearby bushes and Ginny blushed even brighter.

"So nice of you to join us, Longbottom," Draco drawled.

The rose hung from the pin and was now bright orange and in full bloom. Neville looked at the rose, his gaze slowly moving to Draco's face and then Ginny's.

"Longbottom, I said that I wasn't finished with you," Pansy said, poking her head up next to his.

She stopped once she saw Draco and Ginny and she turned an ashy white.

"You!" she spat at Ginny.

Pansy grabbed Neville's tie and kissed him hard. Ginny struggled against Draco, intent upon committing as much bodily harm upon Pansy as possible. Draco however, squeezed Ginny tightly and began dragging her away.

"Come now, pet, there's no reason to jump and down in joy over Longbottom's happiness. It's best if we leave the lovebirds alone. I'm sure we can come up with another way to occupy ourselves. Herbology is forever, after all. Or perhaps it's cyclical, I never did pay much attention to Sprout," Draco said merrily.

He was still clinging tightly to her, even though they were outside of the greenhouse.

"Weasley, I never promised ours would be an easy path. We must all make sacrifices," Draco murmured in her ear.

"Aren't you angry? Pansy's snogging NEVILLE," Ginny said through her teeth.

"She cares, Weasley, so she does what any good Slytherin does. She plots," Draco said with a touch of pride.

Ginny snorted.

"Slytherins are weird," she said.

"Coming from a Gryffindor, I don't know if that's an insult," Draco said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "You should go lie down. I think you've had enough excitement for today."

"Drop dead, Malfoy," Ginny said.

"My beloved, she speaks," Malfoy said, fluttering his eyelashes. He glanced down and plucked the rose from his pin. "Mustn't forget your token."

He tucked the rose behind her ear again and gave her a soft kiss.

"Anon, Weasley," he said before flouncing off.

The flurry of giggles alerted Ginny to the audience.

"I hate boys," she announced.

The audience clapped. She glared at them. They stopped, unsure of what to do. She waved her wand and they fled. The bat bogey hex was not one to be taken lightly.


End file.
